Of dream…

William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905) – Sewing (1898) Via Wikipedia

I used to have a fear, growing up, of falling asleep and waking up a girl. I call it a fear, but there was also a hope component. I wanted to be a girl, but I didn’t understand the feeling. Back then there was no internet. I thought I was just weird. I was a boy, and that meant growing up to be a man. That I could actually grow up to be/become a woman never entered my tender mind.

I remember a dream. I was either in elementary or jr. high school, but I still hadn’t reached puberty. It took place in the gym. We had to walk out into the middle of the gym floor. I can’t really remember why exactly, but I do recall being in line waiting for my turn. I looked down and I was wearing a dress, complete with pantyhose. Curious, and probably with a bit of trepidation, I lifted up my dress to take a look. I didn’t have a penis. I remember feeling satisfied, giddy with excitement, and I walked out to center court feeling confident.

I’ve never told anyone that dream, not even my best friend. As much as I love my penis, I sometimes wish I didn’t have one. I really do want to be a woman. Anytime I’ve ever dressed up, although I felt self-conscious about being found out, I also felt a little more confident. It felt right to dress as a woman, like I belonged.

I would love nothing more than to wake up tomorrow morning to find that a miracle had occurred, that my deepest desire had been granted, and that I was a woman. I know that’ll never happen, and I know that I’ll probably never transition. It’s not something that I will ever pursue, but the thought lingers still. I dream of being the girl I should have been born to be.

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